


Fall (into my arms)

by gotfanfiction



Series: Twitter nonsense [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, Established Relationship, Geralt is Afraid of Chickens, How To Be Romantic; A Guide Written By Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Middle Aged Dorks In Love, Pumpkins, Romance, They've Gone Full Homo, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: It was hard to completely ignore someone who insisted on keeping a hand on your thigh while you were driving.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Twitter nonsense [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024782
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Fall (into my arms)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moirahawthorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirahawthorne/gifts).



> Twitter prompt! We've got those good fall vibes uwu

Geralt could grumble all he liked, but Eskel knew he was going to enjoy their impromptu trip out to the farm. Working in the city made sense, but they both missed the openness of the ranch they'd grown up on, and it wasn't like the farm they were going to today was too far out of their way. 

"Hey," Eskel grinned at Geralt, gesturing at the sign he'd just spotted. "This place sells cider, too." 

He could practically smell the repressed smile, but Geralt kept his eyes on the road ahead, ignoring his partner, for the most part, anyway. It was hard to completely ignore someone who insisted on keeping a hand on your thigh while you were driving. 

It was for Eskel, anyways, when it was his turn behind the wheel. He'd lost the coin toss in the grocery store parking lot, and was summarily banished to the passenger seat for his misfortune. Twenty years and they still hadn’t found a better way of resolving who got to take turns ferrying themselves around. 

The air was chill across his face when he stepped out of the truck, crackling with autumn and winter’s first snaps of frost. It was gorgeous here, leaves and hay scattered around, crunching underfoot. He left the negotiating to Geralt, happier to make friends with the few goats and chickens wandering around, keeping an ear perked for when Geralt would need help to grab their purchases.

And he would. This farm was selling the biggest pumpkins Eskel had ever seen, and he said goodbye to his new little friends when Geralt hollered at him to get his ass over and pick one out. 

“Bought two,” Geralt wrinkled his nose when the breeze picked up. “One for each of us. Don’t take too long trying to find the perfect one, I don’t want to have to rescue you from the pumpkin patch.”

“Big words coming from the man who takes two months to buy his own kid a birthday present every single year.” Eskel pecked a blushing cheek. “Unwad your panties, darlin, I’ll be twenty mintues, top.”

“Left those at home,” Geralt smirked at him before he jogged off to find his gourd of choice, leaving Eskel to gape at him, his own face flushed. 

What a bastard. Gods, he loved him so much. 

True to his word they were both satisfied in under twenty minutes, and Eskel was making sure the stupid enormous pumpkins were strapped down tight enough that a bump wouldn’t send them flying to their deaths, while Geralt was over by the stand  _ again, _ doing god knows what instead of helping him with these  _ extremely slippery pumpkins, _ seriously, why were they so  _ wet? _

He gave up and wrapped them in the tarp they kept folded in the backseat, and Geralt had showed up to help with that, at least, and between the two of them they had it sorted in a few moments. Eskel wandered back to give the goats one last pat on the head before they left, Geralt eyeing the chickens a bit nervously as they circled around his feet, pecking at his boots. He gently shooed them away, and they headed back to the truck.

As Geralt, who’d won the coin toss again, dammit, drove off, he had a mysterious little smile tucked away in the corners of his mouth. That was his plotting face, and Eskel wondered what it was he had planned.

“Geralt, the home is in the  _ other _ direction.” Eskel raised an eyebrow at him. “Did the chickens rattle you so bad you forgot the way home?”

“I’m not scared of chickens,” and look at that frown, he loved that frown. “They’re just stupid delicious birds.”

Eskel, who had seen Geralt get run right up a tree by the nasty old hen Vesemir had when they were children, knew better, but he was feeling magnanimous, and didn’t mention the incident. That story was always better told in company, anyways. 

The truck turned into a park, grass still miraculously green this late in fall, and surprisingly empty as well. Eskel let himself be pushed out of the truck and walked over to a choice spot, just enough shade to keep the sun from their eyes, but not so much the area was colder than its surroundings. Geralt was fishing around in the backseat for something, and he was very curious, now. 

“Close your eyes.” Eskel huffed but complied, and got a blanket to the face for his troubles. 

“What the hell?” Geralt was snickering at him, and he was laughing too, and was that a pie? “Is this a picnic? Did you ambush me with a picnic?”

“Yeah. Get up so I can put the blanket down; you're getting grass stains on your ass.” Geralt set the pie down in the middle of their beat up emergency car blanket, two plastic forks stabbed into it, and a small case of glass bottles, probably the cider the farm had been selling. 

They were both sat cross legged, knees touching, eating pie straight out of the tin like heathens, slugging back cider like they were dying of thirst, and Eskel was pretty sure this wasn’t your typical romantic picnic date, Geralt with filling stuck in his beard, and him belching a whole damn lot, both of them laughing like idiots, but he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> swing by twitter @gotfanfiction to hang out w me


End file.
